A couple of years ago I moved in with my sister, my Mom had succumbed to breast cancer after fighting the disease for five years. It was not an ideal situation, both of us set in our ways, but I was still underage and had no other living relative. Dad had left us several years ago for someone else, his departure devastating Mother at a time when she needed him. I had never heard from him since his departure, and after Mom’s death the lawyers had tried to contact him. No sign of him was found, finally giving custody of me to my sister.
Our age difference, probably the main reason for our not getting along. I was 17, still in school for at least another year, while she was 22 a recent graduate of college and employed as a boutique manager. Sis was quite smart, majoring in business management, and was courted by several companies when she graduated. Since she lived in another town, it meant that I had to change schools, a fact that I was not happy about. The best way to describe our relationship was a standoff.
Surprisingly nothing serious happened for the first few months. I was not happy in her care, she was not happy that I obviously resented her intrusion in my life. Recently, matters had become more stressed, and on a Saturday in late March a new living arrangement became necessary. Mary Jane, my sister was livid after I had talked back to one of her close friends, calling her a whore. Her friend had slapped me hard, when the statement was made, and left crying at my remarks.
Looking back on the situation I had over reacted as usual. But that is nothing new for me. Her friend had dressed very provocatively, for a blind date with my sister and two male friends, and I had called her a whore referring to her short dress and five inch heels. The fact that she had used a little too much makeup, probably helped me make that declaration. I often made trouble for myself by stating the facts as I saw them without tempering it with common sense.
This was another of those times. Mary Jane left shortly thereafter to try and soothe her friend’s emotions, and maybe salvage the date. I was informed that she would have more to say upon her return, a lot more. Knowing my sister she would, she was fair, but didn’t tolerate any backtalk or sassing and my insulting her friend elevated me to the top of my sister’s list of people that need straightening out.
I often state my opinion on things, when in reality no one wants to hear my take on the situation. More than once I have been told that the matter is none of my business, and to stay out of the discussion. Although I am well educated and fairly bright, the hoof and mouth disease continues to plague me.
Mary Jane returned earlier than I had anticipated and based on her looks I was in quite a bit of trouble. She made herself some tea and dragged me into the living room. She told me her friend, Carolyn had not went with her on the double date, and instead stayed home and cried most of the evening. Mary Jane had stayed with her and tried to comfort her as much as possible. I was told that I would go to her apartment tomorrow and apologize to her for my remarks. I nodded my head, aware that I was wrong.
Next was my punishment for being a jerk, her words. “Since you have trouble with a female’s choice of shoes, making wild and reckless accusations about them, I think that you need to spend a little time in said shoes to see what it is like. Maybe with five inch stilettos on, you might even become a whore yourself, as you accused my friend.” I rebelled instantly, telling her that I would not wear any female heels so that she could humiliate me. As soon as I said those words the irony of what I said became apparent. I had humiliated Carolyn the same way only hours earlier.
Mary Jane saw my realization and smiled. Tomorrow we are going shopping for you some new shoes, you are going to try them on in the store and buy them yourself. Until I feel that you have learned your lesson, you will wear them every day from the time you get up until you go to bed. There is no discussion in this, your remarks has hurt one of my best friends and you need to change your attitude now. I instantly thought of school, and sis just smiled. Even at school you will wear your heels, luckily for you the majority of the students are girls, your new attire will be noticed, but I doubt you will be bullied about it.
I tried to reason with her, I knew that I had wrongly spoken to her friend, but this seemed to be too harsh for what I had said. She reminded me that this is not the first time I had spoken harshly of someone else. The fact that I resented my sister’s intrusion in my life another nail in my coffin. She told me that until I can live without her help and support, she will do her best to see that I am a responsible, educated, and caring individual. Since my outburst pointedly shows my lack of progress in these matters, it is imperative that my attitude is changed and now.
Tomorrow you get your heels, and we will see after a week if any further changes need to be implemented. I hated this change that she decided to impose, but I was way out of line, just maybe she was right. How hard can it be to wear heels for a while? Most all women wear them at some time in their life, it should be a breeze.
With regards to school, I was sure that I could bluff my way through any problems I might encounter. It was a former all girl’s school, that had to become co-ed to conform to federal laws. I was among twenty males enrolled at the school, most of them not the macho bullying type. Most of the guys would be considered nerds, with a Goth or two thrown in for good measure.
I didn’t sleep very well that night, not knowing what my sister had in mind, much less facing Carolyn to apologize. I didn’t think she would be very accepting after what I had said to her. She had a fragile sort of personality, easy to engage in conversation, outgoing until she is attacked, then shrinking into her shell for protection. I had fractured that shell and sent her reeling.
Morning came way too early, as Mary Jane got me out of bed. She handed me a can of shaving cream and a ladies razor and told me to shave the hair off my legs. I thought about refusing, but her comment about what other changes might be needed to be made in the weeks ahead changed my mind. I went to my bathroom, entering the shower and started to lose the hair on my legs. I didn’t have that much, but the total lack of it seemed to make my legs much more obvious. Twenty minutes later I was hair free from my waist to my toes. I toweled off, proceeding to my bedroom. I pulled on a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and slipped into my sneakers. I usually don’t wear socks, so I just figured with the new shoes they would not be necessary.
Story Incomplete At Present
© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker